Page 39 of Circe

“I am glad to be gone.” His voice was curdled. “They had a singer in, to tell the tale of the glorious bull-man’s birth. Apparently he fell from a star.”

A boy ran out from an inner room. I did not know mortal ages well then, but I think he may have been four. His black hair curled thick and wild around his ears, and his limbs were still babyishly round. He had the sweetest face I had ever seen, gods included.

“My son,” Daedalus said.

I stared. I had not even considered that Daedalus’ secret could be a child. The boy knelt, like an infant courtier.

“Noble lady,” he piped. “I welcome you to my father’s house.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And are you a good boy, for your father?”

He nodded seriously. “Oh, yes.”

Daedalus laughed. “Don’t believe a word. He looks sweet as cream, but he does what he wants.” The boy smiled at his father. It was an old joke between them.

He stayed for some time, prattling of his father’s work and how he helped. He brought out the tongs he liked to use and showed me with a practiced grip how he could hold them in the fire and not be burnt. I nodded, but it was his father I watched. Daedalus’ face had gone soft as ripe fruit, his eyes full and shining. I had never thought of having children, but looking at him, for a moment I could imagine it. As if I peered into a well and far below glimpsed a flash of water.

My sister, of course, would have seen such love in an instant.

Daedalus put his hand to his son’s shoulder. “Icarus,” he said, “it is time for bed. Go find your nurse.”

“You will come kiss me goodnight?”

“Of course.”

We watched him go, small heels brushing the hem of his too-long tunic.

“He is handsome,” I said.

“He has his mother’s face.” He answered the question before I asked it. “She passed at his birth. A good woman, though I did not know her long. Your sister arranged the marriage.”

So I had not been so wrong after all. My sister had baited the hook, but she caught the fish another way.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He bowed his head. “It is difficult, I admit. I have done my best to be father to him and mother too, but I know he feels the lack. Every woman we pass, he asks if I will marry her.”

“And will you?”

He was silent a moment. “I think not. Pasiphaë has enough to scourge me with already, and I would never have married in the first place, if she had not insisted. I know what an unfit husband I make, for I am happiest when my hands are busy at my work, and then I come home late and filthy.”

“Witchcraft and invention have that in common,” I said. “I do not think I would make a fit wife either. Not that my door is battered down. Apparently the market for disgraced sorceresses is thin.”

He smiled. “Your sister I think has helped poison that well.”

It was easy to speak so openly with him. His face was like a quiet pool that would hold everything safe in its depths.

“Do you know yet how you will keep the creature when it is grown?”

He nodded. “I have been thinking. You see what a honeycomb the palace is beneath. There are a hundred storerooms that go unused, for all the wealth of Crete is in gold these days, not grain. I think I may make them into a sort of maze. Close it at both ends and let the creature roam. It is all dug in the bedrock, so there will be nowhere to break out.”

It was a good idea. And at least the creature would have more room than a narrow cage. “It will be a marvel,” I said. “A maze that can hold a full-grown monster. You will have to come up with a good name for it.”

“I’m sure Minos will have a suggestion, involving himself.”

“I’m sorry that I cannot stay to help.”

“You have helped more than I deserve.” His gaze lifted to touch mine.